Primum Non Nocere
by Gandalf3213
Summary: For Starship captains and physicians, the motto was always first, do no harm. But James Kirk is still young, and sometimes in his quest for justice, his thirst for adventure, a certain Vulcan gets caught in the cross fire of good intentions.
1. One

"_Speak your mind, Spock."_

"_That would be unwise."_

"_What is necessary is never unwise." __**Sarek and Spock**_

**I.**

There was no way they were getting off Earth, circa 1942, any time soon. "What do you say to a little exploring?" Kirk asked, a happy grin already twitching the corners of his mouth upward.

They raided a clothesline first. Found a kids' sweater for Checkov, who ended up looking so good in green Sulu gave him a cap to go with it. Work pants were produced for all, as were shirts and leather shoes, which felt so _right_, so much better than the flimsy one-size-fits-all from Star Fleet. Kirk had grown up in clothes like this, because, really, fashion hadn't changed much in two hundred plus years.

Spock was the only one who looked uncomfortable. He was also the only one who didn't quite fit into the clothes: Vulcan physique, while extremely similar to human, produced broader shoulders and forearms, narrow hips, long legs. Finally, after a short puff of frustration, Spock ripped off the sleeves of the shirt and placed them carefully back on the clothesline.

Well, that made Kirk laugh harder than he had in a while, and Bones pointed out that he was pretty sure frustration was an emotion, and did Spock think living around humans was compromising his carefully honed robotic qualities?

Spoil-sport that Spock was, he refused to rise to the bait.

"I'we newer been to Seattle!" Checkov said, cheeks reddening in the brisk wind. He ignored Bones comment that, as a seventeen-year-old whiz kid who'd spent most of his time on the Star Fleet compound, there were probably a lot of places he hadn't been.

Of course, after that Kirk had to admit he'd never been to Seattle, either. Sulu mentioned that he'd been to Europe, and Japan, and California, and a few of the outer rim planets as a child, but never to Washington. Spock stated, quietly, that his duties as an officer rarely permitted him time to go gallivanting across the country.

Which made Bones their honorary tour guide. "Don't expect no fun facts, kids. Remember, it's the _nineteen _forties. They probably don't even have decent electronics, let alone technology that can put us in contact with Scotty."

Kirk brushed this aside with the confidence of one accustomed to confidence. "They're looking for us, Bones, and Scotty probably has enough technology for both ends. We can afford a little fun."

The five chattered comfortably among themselves, strolling along the large streets, leaning against the guard rails that over looked the docks. The smell of fish was overpowering, but undeniably pleasant, and Sulu related a story from his childhood, growing up the son of a Japanese fisherman and not being able to swim until he was thirteen years old, "at which point my father became fed up with my excuses and threw me off his dock."

"What happened?" Kirk asked, backing away from the guard rail and looking at the churning sea warily, making Sulu smile.

"Well, everyone knows how to swim. I managed to float there for a while. My brothers were yelling at me from the dock – all older, all great swimmers. I started to go under when I realized the water was, at most, three feet deep." The laughter from the others dissuaded the old embarrassment from the story and Sulu grinned.

"I never did learn how to swim." Spock commented lightly.

Kirk turned on him, incredulous. "Really? That's not safe." His brow furrowed for a second before he shrugged. "I'll teach you on the holodeck, if you want."

Spock's eyebrow inched towards his hairline. "I fail to see how that is necessary. Vulcan is a --" Spock stopped short, choking on his words and closing his eyes for a brief moment, making the other four shift uncomfortably, sympathetically. It was times like these where the loss of Vulcan would wash over Spock like an unexpected wave, and they could do nothing but stand, wait for it to pass.

Finally, Spock opened his eyes, offered the barest hint of a smile, proof that he'd been around humans too long, appeasing them with expressions, "yes, captain, I agree it would be beneficial to learn to swim, seeing how Earth is 70.8% water."

Spock wasn't the only one who could offer a fake smile. Kirk plastered one of his own, wildly trying to come up with a distraction. "Let's see if one of these stores have anything we can use." Of course, he didn't know how they'd _pay_ for the technology. He'd just have to hope that Scotty figured out how to reverse the worm hole, and soon.

The store they went into was spacious, filled with odds and ends. The five meandered through it, picking up broken radios, antennas, primitive satellites. Checkov or Spock would finger the object and either hold onto it or place it back on the shelves. They had gotten about halfway through the store, to the counter at the midpoint, before anyone else even talked to them.

"Hey!" The man behind the counter, who had been leaning across it to talk to two men in blue, 1940's police officers, looked up, face hard. "What's he doing here?" He jabbed a finger in the direction of the crew, though exactly who he was pointing at was unclear. They stiffened anyway, hands automatically flying towards phasers, hidden in the folds of the flannel jackets.

Kirk was the one who spoke up, clearing his throat and trying to remember how to look innocent. "Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?" Respectful, but with the hint of power laced into the words.

The man didn't back down, jabbed his finger again, "I don't serve fucking commies. He should be arrested!"

The police shifted, their own hands going to their guns, only theirs were exposed. And now all three citizens were staring, hard, at Sulu.

"Aw, damn." Bones whispered, remembering ancient, pre-World-War-III history, something about Japanese-Americans, something about camps. The group closed around Sulu – Kirk directly in front, Bones on his right, Spock on his left. Checkov's hand rested on Sulu's forearm and he watched the Asian's face shutter closed.

Kirk was doing his damndest to suppress the hot-headed farm boy that was threatening to overpower his captain's patience. "But he hasn't done anything wrong! He hasn't broken any laws --"

"That's what they all say." The police officer wasn't as angry as the shopkeeper; his voice was tired, as if he'd been through this drill too many times before. "You just can't trust any of them."

"It's their slanted eyes." The other cop supplied helpfully. "Slanted eyes and crooked ways." He stepped forward, and now he had handcuffs in hand. "They're all supposed to be in the internment camps, anyway. Executive order 9066." As if that was an explanation.

"Ju cannot awest Hikaru! He has done nuffing wong!" McCoy elbowed Checkov and he stopped short with a quiet whimper of protest.

Now the other police officer had a gun in his hand, looking almost apologetic, while beside him the shopkeeper looked apocalyptic. "Now just come on, and no one has to be hurt." He touched Spock's hand as he reached passed the Vulcan for Sulu and Spock reacted instinctively, flipping his hand over and catching the cop's wrist, holding it with his Vulcan strength, three times that of a human.

"Hey!" This from the shopkeeper, who had barreled out from behind his counter. Now the five from the _Enterprise_ had dropped the electronics they'd been holding and fell easily into fighting stances, still circling Sulu, because, really, the whole thing was rather ludicrous and barbaric. Kirk felt his respect for the twentieth century slip a little every time one of the cops or the shopkeeper glanced in Sulu's direction, as if he couldn't recognize their scathing, demeaning looks.

"Arrest them all!" The shopkeeper bellowed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Arrest them for disturbing the peace!"

"That one can't even speak English, Duke." The cop who's arm had been caught by Spock grabbed his hand back and pointed it this time at Checkov, looking uneasy. "Maybe they _are_ commies."

"I assure you, we are nothing of the sort, and if you continue to attempt to detain us, the odds are not in your favor." Spock's voice came out smooth, but Kirk, who had been listening for it, wary, heard the hints of accent trailing beneath the words, knew that the police had heard it, too.

When the cops tightened the grips on their guns, Bones murmured the words Kirk had been wanting to say out loud. "Hold steady, ya'll, let them finish what they's started."

That was the breaking point for the shopkeeper, who was now gesticulating wildly. "And he's from fucking Dixie! I'll be damned if they aren't commies!"

The older cop, Duke, looked at the _Enterprise_ crew, and now it was his turn to be wary. He sidled over to Spock first, perhaps having taken notice of his quickness when it came to his partner. "I'm going to have to ask you all to come with me downtown." He held his gun firm, not pointing it anyone in particular. "And I'm not going to ask twice."

Spock shifted his body slightly, moving so he could cover both Sulu and Checkov with his body, so he'd be the first into the inevitable fray. The tiny movement was enough, it seemed, and the younger cop reacted, scared, striking Spock with his gun.

The hit may have felled a human, but it only made Spock stagger into Bones, only made Kirk bare his teeth and all but growl at the man, one hand exploring Spock's head until he found it….oh, God.

His sentiment was echoed around the room. "Oh my God!" This from all three civilians, staring at the green running down Spock's face in horror. That was the signal.

Sulu surged forward, striking the shopkeeper with moves learned from too many years of martial arts, a few well-placed hits knocking the man out. Bones, arms full of Spock, could only watch as Kirk and Checkov dashed for the same cop, the one who'd hit Spock, leaving one man open, aiming his gun.

The scene dematerialized, and Bones would never again disavow miracles when he found himself on board the _Enterprise_, Scotty staring at him from behind the transport station, his companions blinking stupidly at the change of scene.

"Damn!" Kirk hissed, crossing over to Bones, helping him lower a limp Spock to the floor of the transport pad, Checkov and Sulu looking on anxiously. "He was shot!"

"No kidding?" Bones breathed, his hands already easily ripping the tea, exposing a gaping green hole in Spock's side, thin blood spilling out. "Another perfect mission." Bones shot a scathing look at Kirk making him feel all of ten years old. "Sightseeing was a brilliant idea, Jim."

And even though Spock was rushed to medbay and sowed back together, and then unsowed when Bones remembered, suddenly, that the frickin' ancient projectile could still be inside, and then re-sowed…even though Spock turned out perfectly fine, albeit a little dizzy from loss of blood, even though Checkov and Sulu, shaken and hurt from the bigotry long forgotten, were helping each other lick their wounds. Even though Kirk knew Bones was only scared for Spock when he said those words_ brilliant idea, Jim_…well, Kirk could know all these things, and still know that, despite everything, it was his fault, all his fault, that they'd ended up in that position, and he couldn't take that back.

**So, this will be a five-part story, all mistakes by Kirk, building up to a ginormous, awful, huge mistake. But there will only be five parts.**


	2. Two

_"Who was that pointy-eared bastard?" _

_"I don't know, but I like him." **Kirk and Bones**_

**I.**

"Oh, look, Spock." Kirk put his hand down deliberately, right at the spot on the science consol that Spock had been staring at and tweaking for the past ten minutes. "I order you to take some shore leave, okay? It's an order. Done."

And Kirk wouldn't have gone that far, really he wouldn't have, if Spock had just taken the shore leave the three other times he'd offered it, since they were going to be docked at Jupiter station for _two weeks_ and that was more than enough time for Spock to catch a break on Earth. God knew he needed one.

Though the first six months of their five-year-journey had been tumultuous to say the least, Kirk had grown to like his First Officer. He couldn't say he'd grown to know him – Kirk seriously doubted if anyone truly _knew_ Spock, save Spock Prime. He was reclusive and introverted most of the time, though Kirk and the others were starting to see a streak of sarcasm in the mild, infuriatingly calm comebacks Spock would shoot at Kirk from across the bridge.

And he was a damn hard worker. Kirk suspected than much of his success had to do with Spock in one way or another. And his loyalty to the crew, to the ship, ran long and deep. And…well, this just showed something about _Jim_ too…he had somehow become one of Kirk's best friends.

If he would only take some time to _relax_.

McCoy had sent him up to the bridge, as soon as Kirk had returned from his own short leave. "He hasn't left, not in two days. Says there's a problem with the navigation system."

"That's why the ship is docked, right?" Kirk asked, perplexed, "To make repairs?"

Bones let out a long breath. "He seems to think he can fix it better than the kids at Star Fleet." But then the eye-rolling stopped, and Bones' tone became more serious. "Jim, he needs to get off this ship. Show him how to relax." At Kirk's raised eyebrow the older man plowed forward. "Not _your_ way. Think of what Vulcans like to do, I don't care. Just get him away from the _Enterprise_ before he ends up in my sickbay."

Which is why Kirk had ended up fidgeting like a schoolboy sent to the headmaster, trying to cajole a very reluctant Vulcan into a fun outing. When that didn't work, he resorted to rank, because he really didn't know what else to do.

Spock raised an eyebrow at him, finally straightening up. "An order to take shore leave?" Spock murmured, his voice running over the words carefully. "Isn't that somewhat of a paradox, Captain?"

"C'mon, Spock. It's just one night." He tried to think of something Vulcans enjoyed doing. Meditating, learning…in Spock's case, it seemed to be disagreeing with everything Kirk said. "We could go to the Vulcan compound. It's been ages since we saw any…" His voice drifted off as something that might have been pain flashed across Spock's face. It was gone in a second, replaced with the smooth mask, but Kirk had already recognized the emotion for what it was.

"Or just a drink?" He said, and Spock, after considering for a second, jerked his head in what was nothing more or less than acquiescence. "If that is what you order, captain."

***

The bar was loud, packed with Star Fleet students and some members of the _Enterprise_ crew, who smiled and stood as their captain walked by. But almost everyone recognized those who had saved Earth not six months ago, and Kirk didn't notice when the whoops and cheering were mixed with cat-calls, curses.

Spock, his hand closed over a slim PADD he'd managed to tuck into his jacket, lowered his eyes, his long fingers tapping almost nervously at the bar.

Kirk was a sociable soul, liked to talk to people, make them at ease. He knew how to read body language, and he knew that Spock was decidedly uncomfortable. The crowded, noisy bar scene was completely at odds with Spock's entire personality, and Kirk was regretting his choice more and more by the minute. A night of chess in the near-empty mess hall, or even an Earth movie (Kirk doubted if Spock had ever seen one) would have been preferable to this.

But they were there, and they'd made such a scene coming in, because it was _them_, that the place would probably riot if they left without ordering a single drink.

So Kirk tried to keep a low profile, for Spock's sake, deflecting conversations left and right until it became obvious to all that tonight, at least, the young hero of the planet would not be regaling the crowds with stories.

And maybe Spock noticed that he was trying, at least, because he smiled slightly at Kirk over the brim of his drink, watching, almost amused, as Kirk downed three shots in quick succession. "You enjoy being back on Earth, captain." It wasn't a question. Instead, the words came out sad, wistful.

"I may love the _Enterprise_, Spock, but I still have a home here." He quirked a smile. "Don't tell Scotty." He had the next glass p to his lips before he saw it again, that fleeing instant of sadness, hurt, fly across Spock's face at the mention of a home.

"Oh…" And suddenly Kirk _got _it, and kicked himself, wishing that he'd sent Bones down here with Spock instead of coming himself. McCoy didn't always get along with their resident green-blood, but at least he didn't but his foot squarely in his mouth as often as Kirk did. Studying Spock (who had become only the slightest bit blurrier) he asked, seriously, "Are you sure you don't want to visit the Vulcan compound, Spock? I'm pretty sure Prime is there…"

In fact, he'd just seen his First's older counterpart the day before, fit as a fiddle, pining for his old universe, his old Jim, but contenting himself with the young version while helping create New Vulcan.

Spock shook his head, took another drink before explaining, in words that were simple, even more heartbreaking because of it. "Nothing can possibly replace Vulcan, captain, not even a place populated by members of my own species."

Before Kirk's foot got permanently lodged, he fled. "More drinks." He said by way of explanation, because that was the only way he was getting through the night. He'd dragged – worse, _ordered_ – Spock down to a place he had no desire to be, bringing back memories he had no desire to recall, and homesickness for which there was no remedy.

Kirk lingered at the bar, managed to smile at a few young, eager students who wanted to be captains to replace those thousands that had died during the slaughter around Vulcan. To them, Kirk was a hero.

A loud crash from the back of the bar, and Kirk whipped around instinctively to find Spock, bleeding and dazed but standing erect, facing the five men that surrounded him.

"Yo!" Kirk bellowed, pushing himself away from the bar and running to stand beside Spock. It was difficult, because the five pounced just before he got there. A brief scuffle, where Kirk elbowed one man in the face, jabbed another in the kidneys, and took a blow to the eye before they ended up, panting, Kirk and Spock joined by another _Enterprise_ crew member, facing off the five men, doubled over but still angry, and gesticulating wildly in Spock's direction.

"How are you defending him?" One asked incredulously, and Kirk realized that these men were barely out of their teens, that they were dressed in the standard uniform for a student at the Academy. "They're the ones responsible for the loss of our entire Fleet."

Kirk forced himself to breathe and work through this. Brawling, after all, would not set the stellar example for the students in the room. "First of all, we didn't lose the entire fleet. _Commander_ Spock serves on the _Enterprise_. He also stopped that machine that was going to blow Earth from the inside out."

But the words had little impact on the faces in front of them, and Kirk burned with new righteous anger when he felt Spock shift uncomfortably under the five murderous gazes. A glance at his First, and Kirk saw blood, shining and green, on Spock's chin, saw marks already starting to bruise on his forehead.

"Second of all," Kirk said, laying down each word carefully like he would a hand of cards, "Vulcans are not responsible for the destruction of the fleet. Romulans are not responsible. That would be Nero, kid, and he's long dead.

"And third of all, the Commander used to teach at the Academy, and I'm not so sure they'll be pleased when they find out you five attacked a Star Fleet officer, a former professor, and a member of an endangered species all at once."

The crewmember next to Kirk, whose name completely escaped him but who had run to Spock's aid just as quickly as Kirk, added, lightly, "It might just be grounds for expulsion, huh, captain?"

Kirk would make sure that they were expelled, for making Spock stiffen up like that when Kirk's shoulder barely grazed him, for accusing him of a crime he already felt way too responsible for.

The scene dissipated in an uneasy fashion and the ensign, Kirk, and Spock exited the bar as fast as decorum allowed. "Damnit!" Kirk raged, turning to the ensign, because Spock was too unresponsive to even rage at. "Did you know it was like that?" He meant the prejudice, the bigotry on his own Earth, in San Francisco of all places, which was usually a hub of alien cultures.

The ensign nodded, just as angry as Kirk. "I'd heard rumors…but I never imagined they'd go after the Commander, sir, or I'd have advised you to stay on board." The young man shook his head and threw his head back to stare at the sky. "Have you ever felt ashamed to be a part of the human race?"

"Spock?" Kirk made his voice as quiet and low as he would if he were talking to an injured animal back on the farm, back in his past. "Are you hurt?"

"The wounds are superficial, captain." Spock said tightly, but even as he said it Kirk and the ensign knew he was lying. The cuts and bruises surely required no more than time and a band-aid, but the harsh words, the insinuations hurled so brazenly from those men…those were anything but superficial.

And Kirk realized that, on some level, he was responsible. He'd dragged Spock away from his machines and calculations and blue prints, ordered him to a place where he was anything but comfortable. He floundered for a moment, all the usual sentiments sounding wrong to his ears. Finally, as he requested the _Enterprise_ to beam them up, Kirk asked if Spock would like to spend the rest of the evening in 10-forward, beating Kirk at chess.

And when Spock stared at him for a moment, puzzled, then smiled, almost happily, Kirk knew that, no matter how bad he had screwed up, Spock still trusted him. For now.

**Most of these are Kirk getting vaught with his foot in his mouth.**

**Anyways, please review.**


	3. Three

**_McCoy_**_: It's a song, you green-blooded...Vulcan. You sing it. The words aren't important. What's important is that you have a good time singing it.  
**Spock:** Oh, I am sorry, Doctor. Were we having a good time?  
**McCoy:** God, I liked him better before he died. -**Star Trek V: The Final Frontier** _

**IV.**

Luckily, they were en route to Jupiter station for repairs when it hit. There were no treaties that needed negotiations, no hostile species out for their plasma core or their weapons. Just the good ol' fashioned virus.

With a twist.

"I think I'm dying." Kirk said, his words coming out slurred, blurred by his swollen features. Bones came at him with another hypo and Kirk cringed away instinctively.

"Damnit, kid!" But McCoy's voice was low, familiar, worried. "You're allergic to just about every medicine in this joint. I don't know if the swelling's from allergic reactions or this bug…"

"It's not allergic reactions." Kirk assured him. Since childhood, he'd had more than his fair share of injures, and more than his fair share of medicines that were, one by one, crossed off the list of things-that-can-enter-Jim-Kirk-without-making-him-inflate-like-a-party-balloon.

"Damnit!" Jim had stopped counting McCoy's use of the old oath when the number reached two hundred and seventeen, and that was yesterday. Bones collapsed in the chair next to Kirk, breathing ragged. "I don't think I can contain this, Jim."

"We're on a ship, which, you know, is perfect. We're already quarantined." The illness, which Bones hadn't been able to _diagnose_ let alone _treat_, had killed a dozen people before Bones found something to slow down the death process. Fewer fatalities, but it left the victims of the disease in agony.

Kirk arched his back, gritted his teeth, and counted his way through the pain. They were low on painkillers – damn replicators, damn paranoid Star Fleet higher-ups who thought crews would turn drug addicts if given the chance. Kirk had told Bones to give the medicine to those who needed it more.

"Like yourself!" Kirk had shouted (okay, whispered, shouting was totally out of his range) at the retreating back, knowing it was useless. Bones would walk past Checkov, one of the first to fall to the illness, one of the weakest (dead by tonight…tomorrow, that's what Bones had said. And they were going to celebrate his eighteenth birthday in two weeks…) and give him the medicine. He'd go by Scotty, or Sulu, or Uhura, or the hundred other people suffering (silently for the most part) and give them a little respite from the pain.

And Bones…he was running himself ragged, the only doctor still standing, and barely. He swore he was getting close to a cure, and, by god if he had to kill himself to get to it…

The only other person at Bones' side was Spock. Why was it that the _Enterprise_, enlightened as it was, had only one alien? And a rare one at that, since Vulcans were a hot commodity at the moment. But Spock showed no signs of falling victim to the disease, and even his sometimes-green skin looked healthy next to the slightly warm corpses he was attending.

Spock had surprised Kirk, actually. On his feet for a week after the ship was hit with the virus, duties had effectively been suspended as everyone, Kirk included, helped in sickbay, which had overflowed into the hallway, quarters, 10-forward…

Kirk wasn't the best person to send if you wanted to gauge someone's level of pain. He was captain, and, according to Bones, "too damn likable for your own good." People _wanted_ to fight for him, because they knew that Kirk would fight for them in return. So when he asked Scotty how he felt, the engineer had looked at him and said, in a passably healthy voice, that he would be ready for duty in a couple of hours, if Kirk just gave him a few moments to find his sea legs.

When Bones checked on his ten minutes later, Scotty had quietly slipped into a coma.

Spock, though…Jim had never seen him so gentle, so tender. He found his First sitting on the edge of a bed, holding a woman's hand. It was only when he got closer that he realized the woman wasn't crying – she'd been dead for at least a half hour. But Spock was, eyes wet and sparkling as he murmured what Kirk assumed was the Vulcan version of Last Rites.

The inevitable finally happened, though, and Kirk succumbed to the disease and was put to bed. Spock was the one who gently tipped him onto a cot. Kirk's body was feather light by then, after a week of only catching a few bites just after waking up from three-hour power naps. "You need to lay down, captain."

"My crew…" He managed to lift his head up enough to see the crowded medbay just beyond Spock's expansive shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Jim." Spock's hand touched his, and in a moment of complete lucidity Kirk remembered that Vulcans were touch-telepaths, that their hands were their most sensitive and vulnerable parts of their body. He remembered the Academy, where teachers drilled them over and over not to offer to shake the hand of a Vulcan, not unless you know them very, very well.

Kirk cleared his throat, which didn't help at all. He felt like he was drowning and burning to death at the same time. "One…one last order, Spock."

He felt, rather than saw, Spock's nod. "Of course, captain."

"T-take care of the crew…of the _Enterprise_. She's so temperamental…don't let just anyone inherit her, 'kay?" He felt very young and very, very old at once.

"Of course, t'hy'la." Spock moved away, uncertainly, then fled, leaving the young man behind. It would be weeks until Kirk was strong enough to recall the term he used, months before Spock confessed its meaning. _T'hy'la…friend, companion, comrade….brother…_

Bones was in bed the next day, shaking in the grips of a petit mal seizure, which he'd outgrown when he was six. Spock lost twenty good men on his first day, but somehow managed to keep Checkov on the right side of the land of the living, though most of the thanks for that feat had to go to Sulu, who refused pain medications so he could quake beside Checkov in the same bed and murmured words of encouragement to his best friend.

But Bones had finished one important thing, and highlighted on the screen seconds before he fell to the ground in a seizure, partly from the disease but mostly because of fatigue, malnutrition, stress, was the name of the virus that was slowly killing off the best men in the fleet.

Spock didn't sleep. Vulcans didn't need as much sleep as humans, and if he was uncomfortable, that was because the temperatures on the ship were lowered to be more comfortable for the feverish patients. He was used to the warmth of Vulcan (Vulcan!), not to the cold bleakness of a starship. If he would suddenly become weak-kneed when pouring over a patient or, less often, a vial of the newest would-be-cure…well, that was because he hadn't pushed himself this hard in _years_.

Every day he found himself stopping by the same people. Sulu and Bones were among the most lucid of the near two-hundred remaining crew (and Spock didn't even have time to give the dead a proper burial), and he talked with them for a few minutes every day. Kirk, when he was coherent, could never speak, his allergies still wreaking havoc on his system, but he would stare up at Spock, and when the captain grabbed his hand Spock just didn't have the heart to pull away.

Checkov…you couldn't help but like the kid, even if you were a Vulcan and practically, as McCoy so succinctly put it, robotic. He was energetic and intelligent and _good hearted_, and Spock was sure he would have a cure, but maybe he wouldn't have it in time to save the _Enterprise_'s youngest member.

And Scotty was still in a coma, and from his expressions, that did nothing alleviate his pain. And Uhura (they'd broken up almost a year ago, but that didn't mean he still didn't think her beautiful, intelligent…) on the floor because she'd given up her last three beds to those who were "sicker". Spock ended up moving one of the dead (Ensign MacIntosh, he'd remember that name for the rest of his life) to make room for her.

The Vulcan embassy, in one of their many inquiries into that particular incident, would accuse Spock of forming attachments, and they were right, Spock could no longer deny that the emotions he felt in regard to Sulu and Checkov, to Bones and _Jim_, were stronger than any others he'd ever experienced.

He managed to inject the serum into the remaining one hundred and eighty-nine crew members, starting with Checkov, working his way backward to the least sick. It wasn't until he collapsed on the floor, next to a now fully awake Kirk and McCoy, that he realized he'd never given himself any of the antibiotic.

And when Spock was in sickbay for three weeks, suffering from a mutated form of the disease, Kirk visited every day. "There's no cure for this one, Jim. He's hurting, but he won't die from it." At Kirk's look he held up two fingers and said, half-heartedly, "Scout's honor."

"He saved all of our lives, Bones." Kirk shook his head, his hand wrapped in its usual place, inside of Spock's warmer, smaller one. "Because I told him to."

Bones snorted. "You give yourself too much credit. You know these Vulcans, they practically _need_ to sacrifice themselves." Bones raised an eyebrow, a trick he'd picked up from their resident Vulcan. "It's a pretty common trait around here."

Kirk blushed slightly but otherwise didn't react, his thumb running over the smooth skin on the back of Spock's hand. "Still…I could have gotten him killed."

For the first time in three weeks, Spock opened his mouth, managed to hiss out words through the layer of pain. "It would have been…a worthy…sacrifice…" He was ready to go back into the comfortable arms of unconsciousness, so ready, but in one last supreme effort he managed another word. "T'hy'la."


	4. Four

_**Kirk**: I'm coming with you  
**Spock:** I would cite regulation, but I know you will simply ignore it  
**Kirk:** See, you are getting to know me. _

**V. **

"The storm's getting too dangerous!" Kirk shouted at Spock, barely making himself heard over the icy wind. Spock turned nonetheless, cocking his head slightly and nodding at Kirk's words, his one eyebrow going up even covered with ice.

"We need to find Hughes and Sulu…beam back up to the Enterprise." The communicators weren't working, but the time for the rendezvous was nearing, and the transmitter beacon back to the ship was functioning: barely, allowing for the transporter to work past the ion radiation in the atmosphere to beam back those standing within the beacon's sphere.

Spock moved closer, so the shouting with no longer necessary. "It is dangerous to move away from the crash site while the snow persists, captain." Spock was staring just over Kirk's head, at the snow-covered wreckage of the alien ship, the thing they'd come down to this miserable planet to investigate.

"Don't go too far, then, but we need to get out of here soon." Kirk ran his hands up his arms, trying to create some warmth. "I'm freezing."

So was Spock, but he wasn't about to say that. Instead, he barely nodded his head before moving in the opposite direction of the captain. Kirk stared after him for a moment before turning away and shouting into the wind, "Sulu! Hughes!" as he walked across the slippery, snow-covered turf.

They had been sent down to examine the debris of a craft that was suspected to be Klingon, or maybe Romulan, they weren't quite sure. Either way, both races were volatile at best and violent at worst and knowing what their ships looked like, what they were equipped with, couldn't hurt.

At least that's what Star Fleet said when Kirk told them about the ship. What they'd neglected to mention was that, at its hottest, the planet they were "exploring" was ten degrees below zero.

The ship was destroyed beyond recognition by the time they beamed down. Kirk sent Hughes and Sulu in search of survivors, not really thinking they'd find any. He and Spock examined the ship, finding few salvageable parts and no 'black box' to tell them how the vessel had been destroyed.

And now they needed to get up to the Enterprise, because there was something in the atmosphere that had been interfering with the transporter, because the temperature was dropping by the minute as what little heat from the sun evaporated as it set, because there was nothing left for them here. "Sulu! Hughes!"

"Captain!" The call was tinged with worry but was still strong. Kirk jogged a few paces and the frigid air sliced right through his lungs. He went slower, eyes scanning the white, flat landscape. The whipping wind and layer of snow muffled the sound, so one second it sounded like he was close to his men and the next they sounded miles away.

"Captain!" Kirk almost tripped over Hughes, bent over Sulu who was sitting up, looking resolutely away from his leg which was bent at an odd angle.

"What happened?" Kirk knelt and peered at the nasty compound fracture. Both Sulu and Hughes looked embarrassed.

"The Lieutenant thought he heard something and started running forward…ended up slipping on the ice."

"I tripped over my own feet." Sulu corrected, shaking his head. "And the communicators weren't working so we couldn't get back to the rendezvous." He winced.

Kirk quickly explained that he would get the beacon and bring it to Sulu. "It's pretty obvious you can't walk. Just sit tight and Bones'll be lecturing you – and me – about the dangers of away missions." Sulu smiled weakly and Kirk took off…

…and was back within ten minutes. "You two beam up. I need to find Spock and tell him the change of plans." He waited until his men had fully disappeared from sight before heading back to the deserted ship.

Spock was just walking back from the other direction, looking worried and cold. "There is no sign of either Lt. Hughes or Lt. Sulu, and the temperature is dropping dangerously." He took a double take of the crash site. "Where is the beacon?" And worry was such a human emotion…

And so Kirk explained about Sulu's broken leg, how the only way for the Enterprise to beam anyone up was if they were next to the beacon. "C'mon, we should be going, too."

Spock's eyelashes were already thick with snow when he looked at Kirk unblinkingly. "How do you suggest we find the beacon, captain?"

Kirk spun on the spot, looking first one way, than another, but no matter which way he turned he couldn't see past the blinding, thick wall of snow. "We could go looking for it." Kirk suggested without any real hope.

Spock raised an icy eyebrow. "The chances of us finding a single point in a blizzard are…" he trailed off at Kirk's sputter of annoyance, adding, quietly, "Very slim."

"Thanks, captain obvious." Kirk muttered, edging back in the direction they had come. Already their footprints were being covered in a layer of snow. "Come on, mine as well find some shelter. Bones will send a rescue team down…he's really a mother hen about that kind of thing."

Spock followed Kirk, the cold slicing through his thin uniform shirt and chilling his already cold blood. He couldn't keep the tremble out of his body, or his voice, "I will never understand human idioms. How is the doctor like a fowl?"

Kirk managed to smile then, huddling under the thin protection of the ruined spacecraft. "It just means he's a worrier." He eyed his first officer dubiously. If it was McCoy stranded on this godforsaken planet, the two would crack some uneasy jokes before latching onto each other for warmth. But Bones was likable, a friend, and Kirk, after a year of being with the Vulcan, still had no idea where the two stood on the whole friendship thing.

They would spend nights together in the mess or one of their cabins, playing chess. Spock didn't talk much as a rule, and would often stare at Kirk unblinkingly for long periods of time, as if analyzing the man's every move, as if the Vulcan was afraid of doing something wrong or offensive that would drive Kirk away.

Which was why Kirk was hesitant about calling out to Spock, even though the body heat would be much appreciated in the bitter cold. The two remained, Kirk squatting under the wreckage, Spock standing, limbs shaking with the force of the cold.

Finally, it was Kirk who succumbed to the cold. "You know, we have better chances of survival if you'd sit next to me."

Spock stared at Kirk for a moment, his head slightly tilted, eyebrows slightly raised, "I fear contact with my skin will only make you colder, captain. Vulcans do not radiate their body heat."

Well, that was a problem, but more for Spock than for Kirk. At least the captain was wearing a heavy jacket over his uniform, and though he could no longer feel his legs (indeed, he couldn't feel much below his heart) his torso was at least not a block of ice, as Spock's was on its way to being. "Well, at least I can make you warmer." At Spock's dubious expression, Kirk continued, "I have a jacket. And my internal temperature is ten degrees higher than yours anyway."

"Vulcans," Spock said, speaking slowly as if to a very young person, keeping his tone light so as not to betray the fact that he could feel the blood freezing in his veins. "Cannot warm their core temperatures by sharing body heat. It needs to be…very, very warm."

Kirk leaned closer to Spock, eyebrows raised, concerned, "How close are you to hypothermia, Spock?"

The lack of response was the only answer Kirk needed. "Shit." He should have known that Vulcans couldn't stand cold temperatures even as well as humans, should have known not to keep Spock on the planet, should have sent him back as soon as they'd landed in the middle of a blizzard.

"At least sit down, Spock." Kirk used his jacket pulled up over his hand to clear a spot in the snow for the science officer, "It may not help you, but at least I won't have to watch you freeze in a snowstorm."

There wasn't much talk after that, mostly because neither could open their mouth without teeth clattering together. Kirk worked an arm hesitantly around Spock's shoulders, aware of the other man tensing under his touch.

And they waited…

It was only three hours. Three hours. Bones had given up on waiting and sent down a rescue party after the captain and Spock. He kept working on Sulu and Hughes long after the threat of hypothermia had passed, if only to give his hands something to do.

Jim would live. Somehow, that one always managed to survive. But McCoy had spent enough time putting the Vulcan back together to know Vulcan anatomy almost as well as any expert. He knew that Kirk would do anything in his power to keep his First alive…

…But he also knew that, at this point, saving Spock may not be within even Kirk's power.

Bones sent the rescue party down after fifteen minutes of waiting. Two hours into the search, and they realized they were going in ever-oblong circles. Their technology couldn't penetrate the snow. Even compasses were out of whack with the strange planet's magnetic field.

Two and a half hours. Bones stopped hoping for Spock to be alive and modified his prayers for Kirk. Jim would live. Jim always lived.

And finally, Scotty got the call, fuzzy with interference. "Found…Doctor stand by…beaming up."

They arrived on the transporter platform, both with closed eyes, blue lips, ice-covered ears. Kirk gasped as the warmth touched his skin, a sharp flinch of pain. Spock made no movement at all.

Bones leaped onto the platform, tricorder out, eyes fixed on Spock but hand reaching automatically for Kirk. Their friendship was years old, ran long and deep, and even though he knew in his mind that Kirk was okay, that Spock was the one who needed hiss services, his heart made him double check just to be sure.

"Spock?" The word was weak, broken, stuttered, and Kirk still didn't open his eyes. Bones doubted if he even could, since ice seemed to have frozen the lids shut.

"Alive." McCoy said, the only real fact he had. Alive, yes, but not for much longer, not if they couldn't warm him up now. He called ahead to sick bay, told them to raise the thermostat fifteen degrees.

When McCoy went to move the duo to sickbay, he found he had to do so with side-by-side gurneys, because Kirk still had an arm draped around his Spock, unwilling to let go even in unconsciousness.

**Review?**


	5. Five

_In this galaxy there's a mathematical probability of three million Earth-type planets. And in the universe, three million million galaxies like this. And in all that, and perhaps more...only one of each of us. **Dr. McCoy, Star Trek, "Balance of Terror" **_

**V.**

It had never been this bad before.

They were taking heavy fire from the Romulans, of all people. "What is it with these freakin' Romulans?" Kirk had muttered to Bones in the first few minutes of their encounter, which made the edges of his friends' mouth twitch slightly.

"Everyone just wants to kill you, kid."

It seemed that way. Kirk learned, in just one little sit-down talk with the Captain, who called himself Hazari, was out for revenge for the death of Nero. "I thought we'd put that all behind us." Kirk muttered, cutting off the transmission when it became quite clear that rationalizations would not work on this guy. "What part of 'ship of exploration' don't these people understand?"

Because it seemed that, for a ship that was supposed to make First Contact and explore the universe, they got roped into an awful lot of space battles. Kirk knew he had the _Enterprise A_ crew to thank for having more than just a handful of torpedoes. "Can you imagine going through this without any ion cannons? Checkov, ready?"

"Wedy, keptan." But the murmur of fear was obvious under the words. Fear, in fact, was the undercurrent of emotion most palpable on the deck. The _Enterprise_ was outgunned, out sized, and a sitting duck, as the first thing the Romulan ship had done, even before hailing them with a "now you are all going to die" type message, was to disable their engines.

Kirk punched the button next on the arm rest of his seat. "Scotty, how's engineering?" What they really needed was to warp away, to hell with running from a fight, to hell with honor. He had the lives of hundreds of people in his command. He wasn't about to throw that away if he could help it.

"Captain, this is Lt. Barkley." The voice that came over the intercom was younger than Scott's, Americanized, frightened. "Commander Scott was injured during the blast…maybe dead, I don't…I don't know…" the transmission was scratchy and cut off suddenly at the end, leaving Kirk staring at it, head cocked slightly as if confused. He'd liked Scotty since the moment they'd met on Delta Vega, liked his quick mind and easy humor. _Maybe dead._

"Well, I guess we'll have to fight our way out, then." Kirk forced optimism into his tone, forced the news about Scotty to the back of his mind. "Sulu, help Checkov with weapons. Seems like we won't be heading out any time soon. Uhura…hail the Romulans, all channels. If we can talk our way out of this, we will."

"Captain." Spock was there, stoic as always. "Captain, do you have a plan of action?"

"Other than blowing the biggest hole I can in that ship? No, not really." Kirk watched the screen, nervous, poised to react but not ready to deliver the first blow. There was that tiny, irrational part of him that kept saying that, perhaps, there wouldn't need to be any blood shed.

Just then, the ship rocked with a blast that made the lights flicker before going over to auxiliary power. The helm station, with both Checkov and Sulu behind it, suddenly had only Checkov, who stared, mouth gaping, at his friend who'd just had a large part of his shoulder scooped out by flying debris.

Everyone started talking at once, giving Kirk updates on a situation he was still trying to comprehend. "Johanson, Nalick, take Sulu down to medbay. Checkov, we need torpedoes fired _now_, aim for their shields, then weapons, then engines. Remember, we _want_ them to run away. Uhura, any answer on the comm?"

"None."

There had to be a way around this. Desperately, Kirk thought back to his academy days, the first two years when he had to take Engineering classes, Piloting classes, because a captain should know everything that was going on in his ship…

…He remembered one late night, when he was up late studying and Bones walked in, almost stumbling with exhaustion after coming off of a forty-hour shift. The older man had no sooner collapsed in his bed than Kirk was on him, pointing out one of the back-up safety protocols built into the newest series of Galaxy Class Starships.

"Do you think this is right?" Kirk could remember asking his roommate, who'd rolled over and blearily squinted at the schematics, showing a safety switch on the warp drives. "There always has to be enough power to activate the warp engine…all the power in the ship gets diverted for an instant if you follow these protocols, and you go into warp."

"Sounds good to me." Bones threw a hand over his eyes, willing Kirk to go away. No such luck.

"But Bones…" Kirk's voice was pleading, way too alert for three o'clock in the morning. "The only way to activate the switch is to send someone in…it's basically a suicide mission."

Bones flicked his hand away and groaned, "So you lose a guy. If you're sending someone into that situation anyway, Jim, you're going to be pretty desperate for a way to run. Good of the many and all that."

Which left Kirk staring at his roommate, who was now officially dead to the world and would probably inject Kirk with something he was allergic to if the younger man woke him up again. "Good of the many…" he repeated, feeling he distasteful words on his tongue. "What about _Primum Non Nocere_, huh? First do no harm?"

He thought _that_ should be a Starship Captain's motto. He could explore space and find new territories and aliens and meet new people, but they should never, ever have to harm anyone to do it.

Now, in the middle of the worst battle he'd ever been in, Kirk remembered that conversation. It all came back to him in an instant. First do no harm. Good of the many. He looked around at Checkov, who was not even old enough to drink legally and out of his mind with worry about his best friend, at Uhura, who'd told him a week ago that the person she was seeing in horticulture had just proposed. At Spock.

Their eyes met across the wreckage of blasted consoles and bleeding crewmen with Spock, as always, the calm eye of the storm. He, too, had analyzed the situation and had calculated their chances of survival at two hundred and twelve against…

"Spock." Kirk's voice cracked and it wasn't nearly loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the crew falling apart, but Spock heard anyway and crossed the distance between them in a few steps.

"There's this…switch. A last-ditch kind of thing in engineering, right near the warp reactor. You know what I'm talking about?" There was just the faintest hesitation before Spock nodded. Slowly. Never taking his eyes off of Kirk.

"Scotty knew how to flip it, but I don't know if anyone else in engineering…they probably don't, and there's not enough time to figure it out, anyway. Do you know how to override the commands?" Again, the faintest nod from his First Officer, and the faintest hint of…something…in his eyes before it was replaced by an unreadable mask.

When Kirk dissected that _something_ a moment later, he was floored. Trepidation. Betrayal. Fear. Spock knew full well that there was no way to get that close to the warp reactor without dying. That was the point of the fail-safe, to be used in a moment of absolute necessity. He was not only sending a man off to his death, he was sending one of the best men he'd ever known, a person who'd become a friend to him in the last year of their partnership. A member of an endangered species.

The ship was rocked again with a blast and there was a short scream from Checkov as his station emitted sparks. Kirk threw out a hand to steady himself and looked hard at Spock, hating himself for having to say the words.

"Spock, you need to --"

"I know." Spock looked as if he wanted to say something else, anything else. He turned once on his heel before turning back to Kirk. "It has been…an honor serving with you. Jim."

Then he was gone, flying towards the turbo-lift and down to engineering. Kirk felt like a murderer, even though he knew that this was one of the most awful roles of a captain. The good of the many. First do no harm.

Kirk wished he'd had that conversation with Spock. He wished he'd gotten the Vulcan's opinions on the matter.

But Spock was gone. A minute went by, and McCoy came on the loudspeaker next to Kirk's hand. _That hob-goblin, Jim! He's going to kill himself!_

Just when all hope seemed lost, when it seemed as if the Romulan ship would put them out of commission, permanently, the ship shuddered, sputtered, and launched itself into the depths of space.

Only when the chaos on the bridge had been rectified, the blood cleaned, the personnel bandaged…only when Kirk was finally, blissfully alone in his quarters did he allow himself to lean his head against his hand and cry.

_The good of the many_

_Primum non nocere_

One day he'd get it right. One day, he'd learn to act as a captain was supposed to, would learn when to send people off to their deaths and when to fight. And even though Spock's sacrifice had saved an entire ship, even though he'd died with _honor_, Kirk couldn't justify it. Couldn't, because he had the sneaking suspicion that he'd just killed the greatest man he'd ever known, and the best friend he would ever get.

_Good of the many my ass_.

**End**

**Kirk never meant to be mean. In all of these, it was just the logical end to a situation. But he ended up hurting Spock anyway, which was pretty sad. Inevitability is a bitch.**

**Anyway, please review.**


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